


an equation heaven sent

by redledgers



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Halloween, Multiple Orgasms, Sexual Content, Wings, adoration, trick or treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: Without Chloe to stave off his boredom, Lucifer entertains nurses and pirates, devils and angels, until he finds himself at the bar with a bottle of scotch in one hand and a folded note in the other.It's from Chloe.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 24
Kudos: 167





	an equation heaven sent

Out of all the nights full of potential debauchery and fun, she had paperwork. Again _._ The never ending pile of folders on her desk had scared him more than any horror movie. But the case they’d just closed had taken almost three weeks, was tangled up with Vice, and Chloe, ever the dutiful detective, had to stay late and make sure everything was straight. On _Halloween._

At the very least, he could allow himself to be swept up in the lust and iniquities of Lux, where the costumes ran shorter and the night later. Even Maze was elsewhere, probably incorporating some roleplay into her evening with Eve. The last time he saw them, they’d been tucked away in a far corner of the club. Without Chloe to stave off his boredom, Lucifer entertains nurses and pirates, devils and angels, until he finds himself at the bar with a bottle of scotch in one hand and a folded note in the other. 

_Where I once played a trick, try and find something sweet xx_

Oh that little _minx._

*

The lights in his penthouse are turned low when he steps out of the elevator. The backlight on his bar is red, and there are candles on the piano, the stairs, the bedside table. They’re fake, of course. Chloe would never sully his things with wax, not unless he asked for it. But they flicker and glow almost like the real thing, and he’s drawn along their path until he can better see _her._

She sits at the center of his bed, amidst black sheets and deep red rose petals. His gaze trails from the satin to the crease of her knee, the curve of her ribs, the sharpness of her jawline. It settles on the black leather harness that forms a pentagram over her bare chest. He can’t bring himself to look at the devil horns on her head. She watches him in return, quiet and mysterious, drinking in his gaze with a level of defiance. He wonders how long she’s been waiting for him like this. It was worth the hunt though, the trips around LA that kept him guessing, kept him _wanting._

“Is this a trick or a treat?” he asks after a moment, leaning against the Sumerian wall with feigned elegance. Everything in his body is hot, everything in his body wants _her,_ but this is her game, and he is intent on seeing it to the end. 

When Chloe speaks, her voice is low and rough, like she could use a glass of water, the one that he can see resting on the floor against the wall. Still, it shoots through his very being. “What do you desire it to be?”

“I would very much like for it to be a treat, darling.”

She moves, just barely, to lift her hand and crook her finger. The edges of it are rimmed in false fire, and he follows the line of it around the curve of her wrist. _Come here,_ she says with just a movement, and he does until he can go no further.

Her eyes are dark, but he can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light or arousal. He’s just barely close enough to touch now, just at the edge of the bed, but he doesn’t. He’ll wait. “And what is my treat?”

Chloe unfolds, leaning back on her arms and stretching her legs toward him. Her glorious legs, lined in gold, have a hint of glitter, like she had been kissed by divinity. And around her waist, the thin but sturdy straps of an empty harness are already leaving their imprint on her soft skin. “You did so well finding me,” she says, and he doesn’t know where to look anymore, too full, too drunk on Chloe Decker.

“Yes, well, you did leave an enticing little bread crumb trail, my dear.” He leans over, fingers already playing at the buttons of his shirt. “And what is it that they’ve led to, hmm? What are you supposed to be?”

“Yours,” she breathes. 

_Oh._ He would fall a thousand times to hear her say that again. “Does that mean I can ask for whatever I wish?” he asks, voice low and cutting, and he watches goosebumps raise across her skin. “Because darling I would very much like for you to have me spread out beneath you.”

“That can be arranged.” She must have expected it by now, based on the harness around her waist and the way she gestures to a box on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Pick your poison.”

When Lucifer crouches, she moves with him, hair falling over her face as she supervises his selection. Within the box she has placed several of his favorite toys, all things she has deemed on her comfort level. He selects his favorite dildo from the small pile of crops, vibrators, handcuffs, and a single hank of rope. She’s face to face with him when he sits back on his heels, and he once again finds himself admiring the way the pentagram sits on her chest.

“If you’ll do me the honor,” he says, presenting the toy to her like it was a sacred sword. 

Chloe takes it from him and slides to the edge of the bed. “Get undressed,” she says, already working the harness off her hips. He can’t tell if she means to put on a show, but he watches anyway, unbuttoning his shirt with ease and folding his trousers over the armchair. She fits the toy into the harness and makes to step into it, but a strap catches on her heel and she pitches forward.

“Detective,” he says, lunging to grab her before she can spill onto the floor. He hauls her up against the wall, hears the quickened beat of her heart before she huffs out a laugh and settles against him. “Are you alright?”

“That didn’t go as planned,” she gasps between a burst of laughter. It ripples through her in a way that both delights and arouses him further. 

“Are you sure?” He presses his face into her neck and inhales deeply. She smells faintly of scotch and honey, and her ass is smooth against his thighs. His erection, which has been making itself known since he saw her waiting for him in the middle of his bed, presses against her lower back. “I think perhaps I have you exactly where I want you.”

Chloe only whines in response, her cheek pressed against the wall. She makes no move to wriggle free, only presses back against him. It is a rare thing, trapping her so completely, and he wants to live in this moment forever, to count her breaths as they settle evenly. But the only thing he feels right now is a need that burns through him.

He drags his teeth down her shoulder and moves his hands to encircle her ribs. “Love this number on you,” he says, fingers toying at the straps. She’s magnificent, truly. Wanton desire hidden beneath her buttoned up facade and only ever on display for him. “I think I’ll keep it."

“Do whatever you want,” she replies. _“Please.”_

If she was sin incarnate, he would take her in until he could no longer breathe, until his very being was stifled by her heady arousal. But she is the Devil tonight, and he is swept into her gravity without a second thought. She’s hot and wet, a lake of fire that he gladly presses into until she’s gasping in a broken tongue, fingers scrabbling at the stone engravings.

He will gladly drown if she asked him to, but instead he sets a pace that punishes them both. The pentagram harness she wears snaps when he tugs too hard, but he can barely register the sound because Chloe is singing so sweetly, asking so nicely for more, more, _more,_ and he will follow her to perdition as she clenches around him. But he won’t, not yet, and he stills his hips as she catches her breath. _“Lucifer,”_ she hums, shifting as much as he allows. “Want you.”

“Not yet,” he murmurs into her neck, tongue flicking out to taste the sweat that has gathered along her collarbone. He pulls away carefully, keeping Chloe steady against the wall before he can gather her up. She burns in his arms, and her lips scald his skin where she turns to press kisses to it. 

The horns are next to go, the headband falling behind her when he sets her down only to crawl between her legs. She grabs them, and as he’s pressing his tongue against her cunt, she pushes them onto his head. “ _Detective,”_ he whines, barely stopping himself from laughing into the crease of her thighs.

“It’s Halloween.” Her fingers find purchase in his hair, and oh, the way she scratches and tugs makes him shiver, and he loses any will to protest further. He follows her unspoken request for another chance to taste her. She is better than any candy, better than any delicacy he has tasted in tens of thousands of years. She is divinity and brine, starlight and sinew, and the greatest gift he ever could have asked for. Chloe lifts her hips against him and he gives her his life with abandon until she is too far gone to want him at the altar between her thighs any longer. The horns are askew upon his head, but it is a crown he will relish, though one he will pretend to dislike. 

When he sits up, she follows, trails her hand down his chest and pushes his shirt from his shoulders. “I love you,” she says, admiring the lines of his body as he tosses the shirt aside.

The pentagram sits loose on her chest now, and he undoes it the proper way, sending it in the same direction as his shirt. “I’ll buy you another,” he says, pressing a kiss to her jaw when she frowns. He realizes now that he hasn’t given her the proper attention she deserves. But when he makes to nose his way down her chest, she stops him.

“On your back,” she says when he whines. She runs her hand over his thigh and he swears she has taken every ounce of his powers from him and reflected it back tenfold. Chloe climbs atop him like a queen on her throne. She bows low over his body, lips brushing against his jaw, hands braced against his chest. Her cunt is tantalizingly out of reach and he aches for her. “Trick or treat?”

He’ll take anything she wants to give him, has since their first night together. He’ll savor every last drop, every touch she bestows upon him as long as she’ll let him. Lucifer traces a line of heat across her collarbone and down between the valley of her breasts, where otherwise the gift he had given her would hang. _“Please,”_ is all he can manage to say. This being, this divine creature that sits above him, takes his gift of languages and leaves him torn asunder. “Please, Chloe, I…”

He thinks she could hold him on the edge forever and he would let her make it his Hell. But she is kind, and lowers herself on him until he is buried inside her and his heart along with it. She starts slow, rolling her hips until he can no longer say anything. She tells him he can touch and taste, and even though he knows this, the permission is yet another gift. He doesn’t care that the headband is just too tight or that there are rose petals stuck to his back. Chloe Decker is _his_ , not a trick, not a trap, not something meant to scare or something to lose. As she rides, he sets his teeth on her, soothes her skin with his tongue, tasting the salt of her and losing himself at her breast. 

Stars flash across his vision and his wings unfurl with a crackle of lightning. Chloe wastes no time using one of his wings for leverage as she moves, and soon she is coming again, fingers digging in between feathers until he follows her over the edge with her name broken on his lips like shattered glass.

She rests against him then, breath heaving, and for a moment they collect themselves, bring themselves back to this existence, this place. Only when it becomes uncomfortable does she climb off him to tuck herself against his side. "I love you," she says, nestling into his wing. 

Lucifer can't help dancing his fingers down her side, counting her ribs and drawing the stars on her hip. "Shall this be a Halloween tradition?" he asks after a few moments of quiet. In the low light, her eyes glitter, and his fingers continue their journey to soft curls and wet lips. 

"Mmmmm," is all she says, rolling lazily against his fingers. It's not enough to get her off, though he knows she could go again, but he enjoys watching her take what she deserves and revel in his touch. There is something sacred about this space when she is there, when Lux continues to pulse far, far beneath them. Far be it from him to deny her this Heaven.


End file.
